Ridin' Shirtless With #88

My foray into homelessness (see below for details if you missed this month’s first post) has eclipsed the three week mark, and with no end in sight, I think it’s starting to have some profoundly adverse effects on me. At first I embraced the freedom that was unjustly denied me simply because I possessed a roof and lived with Lori. I figured my time as a carefree couch-surfer would be a nice break from the comfortable monotony of betrothed cohabitation. Indeed, in the beginning, this freedom was everything that I hoped it would be. I came and went as I pleased, drank with grad school friends and Retars, frequented after-hour 5 am bars, left the toilet seat up, and survived on a diet that consisted entirely of pork rinds, cheese curds, those KFC sandwiches where the bun is two pieces of fried chicken, and mountain dew. However, after a few weeks of this solipsistic lifestyle, it is evident that I am starting to deteriorate mentally, physically, and spiritually.

The first sign of trouble was when I missed a 7:30 am meeting with Lori and Steve the Romanian Contractor. In my defense, we had an action packed itinerary the previous night. My softball team won its first game of the year after a rocky start to the season as I jump started our offense with a solo dinger in the 2nd (it was actually a triple with a throwing error, but our score-keeper likes to overlook such technicalities and I felt no need to quibble). Later that night, the Blackhawks won Lord Stanley’s Cup, setting off a week-long celebration that proudly exhibited all the best this city has to offer. My arch nemesis the Boston Sports Guy summed it best when he said in a recent column on ESPN.com, “By the way, I'd like to thank Chicago for single-handedly keeping the following American big-city traditions alive: smoking, drinking during the day, eating terrible food, congeniality and breasts. It's noble work you're doing, Chicago. We're all proud of you.” The series clinching game of the Cup Finals was a particularly rough night for me. At some point during the third period I thought it would be a good idea to take my shirt off so that I would be fully prepared when Patrick Kane arived in his limo with the Cup and girls in tow.

However, Kaner never showed up, and I, still with my shirt off, subsequently became the first heterosexual man in the history of the world to have a motorboat performed on him by a beautiful, blonde girl, instead of the other way around. It was at that point that I realized that it might be a good idea to switch over to the KFC sandwiches where the bun is two pieces of grilled chicken. When Kaner eventually slipped one past the goalie (nickel) to win the Cup in overtime, I didn’t know how to react, having never actually cared about a hockey game in my life. So, I decided to celebrate the same way I celebrate all of life’s big events, including weddings, baptisms, brises, elementary school graduation ceremonies, and Avon Breast Cancer Walks: I ordered car bombs. Several of them. These were what ultimately led to my truancy the next morning. When Lori did see me later that day, she was not particularly pleased as you could imagine, stating in earnestness that I looked like a “bloated corpse.”

Not wanting to go through life looking like a bloated corpse, I’ve since resolved to improve my physical health, hoping the mental and spiritual side will follow suit. It is for this reason that I have decided to go on a seven day bike tour across Iowa next month. For the past week I have been training with BBK, the most extreme, bad-ass bike krew in the city of Chicago, for this trek through America’s heartland that will cover as many as 80 miles a day. Having never been on such a journey, I’m not sure what to expect, so I’ve started eliciting advice from people. One close friend told me to bring a life-time’s supply of baby powder (If you’re not sure why this is important, then you’re evidently not familiar with what happens to a corpulent man’s thighs when walking, running, or riding a bike in the heat of July. If you’re not privy to such information, I’ll spare you the details, but rest assured it is not pleasant). With this solid piece of advice in mind, I’d like to take this opportunity to implore the rest of you to use the comments section to provide me with any other pieces of advice, information, or words of caution that you think might be of use to me as I prepare for and eventually undertake this journey.